"an extended meditation on...the psychic wormholes that allow instantaneous travel along our internal galaxies, that hide just underneath the next memory, the next sentence, and behind the all, the ALL itself—unknowable, perhaps, but in Pines’ poetry nearly imaginable." — The American Book Review

Paul Pines: Divine Madness

The only other person I can compare this to is Goethe ... powerful stuff! – Paul Elisha, NPR-WAMC

Pines goes right to the radical nature of metaphor in poetry, not ornament but sudden discernment: sharp observation of historical events and natural things leads directly, deeply, to moral awareness. His lines seem to question the assertions they embody: interrogate by interruption. He is the quiet sage who makes everything in his room a tender plaything. Try the poem on Audubon and see a masterful riff on how to watch with the heart. – Robert Kelly

"I am really moved by this work; segment after segment opens into familiar places, and then into places unfamiliar."–James Hollis

With extraordinary daring and inspiration, Paul Pines has dedicated the art he has exquisitely crafted for a lifetime to the service of the divine madness that has always distinguished poetry from mere writing. In relentless pursuit of the unity we instinctively crave, he captures the universal analogy anew by “connecting us to the consciousness of the gods in men” through dazzling poem after poem in this stunning book. ––George Economou

In these beautifully crafted poems Paul Pines takes us on a dizzying ride through mythological and religious thinkers, through science and philosophy. It is the quest of a man trying to hear the “music/beneath the music” that he hopes, doubts, believes is there—Divine Madness. Pines asks what it means to face death and despair, what it means to doubt meaning while believing in meaning, what it has meant through the centuries. –Susan Sherman

Praise for Paul Pines' previous work:

"In my youth I was lucky enough to stumble into the Tin Palace. Lord, I wish I could do it today — and with Paul Pines’ poems, hey! I can.Whether he’s dissecting rats and roaches with scientifi caplomb, or
eulogizing Ellington, Eddie Jefferson, he’s always got that Low East jazz vibe. A little Roswell Rudd, a little Paul Blackburn. And when you’ve got that going on, you flow like beer and Borges. It’s the Tin Palace. It’s Paul Pines. It’s where poetry is always happening."—Bob Holman

"Paul Pines, like Homer, has the poet’s ear and eye and can tell stories from his life that become cultural history as well as works of art in themselves. He captures the rugged beauty of a certain time and place,
not on a ship in ancient Greece but from the sidewalks of New York and the music that was played and still reverberates. This is the kind of book you can read and re-read and feel you are part of the band. Pines got the whole picture and painted it for everyone else."— David Amram

"Paul Pines' Songs from the Page of Swords consists of those personal, bounding poems, deceptively simple in short measured lines, and a soft voice that is loud enough to resonate. Pines is conscious of every image, locking them with threads of sound. He has traveled, and loved, and spent difficult time alone. He has erred, sinned, and found peace."— Louis McKee, The American Book Review

ISBN: 978-0-9846353-7-5 (pbk.); $15.00

TWO POEMS FROM DIVINE MADNESS

2

The idea is to throw out a net of words
to catch the poem

a net such as Vulcan makes
at the ocean's depths
in a fiery cave
a net of fire in water
forged by one
cast out
cuckold of Venus
lame joke of the gods

whose hairy blacksmith hands
can make a net such as Neptune uses
to hold the waves

a net of words
arching back on itself
to contain
an exploded
universe

a net of light cast into a galaxy
of dancing stars

choreography of answers
in a dark chamber
where the soul
is revealed

as a net of questions
in a net of breath

7

In Copenhagen
by the sea
Heisenberg designs a net
to hold
uncertainty

as the only way
we can account for
ourselves

to which Einstein
objects

preferring one
that unites observer
and observed
position and
velocity

but can't be described
mathematically
as a unified
field

or explain his dream
of a flaming orchid
in the cork screw corridors
of protein